


Worth a Million Galleons

by obsessions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Light Bondage, M/M, Oneshot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Harry, Public Sex, Voyeurism, and it's a costume, catlike harry, he's cat LIKE that is all, it'll make sense I swear, maybe not, this is NOT A FURRY FIC TO BE CLEAR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 05:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessions/pseuds/obsessions
Summary: Draco can't remember ever being so bored at a sex show. That is, until the final performer steps into the spotlight.





	Worth a Million Galleons

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fucking JOY to write. I haven't posted on here in I think over a year now and it feels good to be back. I don't write or post smut often but I really hope you enjoy this!
> 
> If you wanna chat/see some slightly more pg writing of mine, feel free to hmu at my hp rp blog @ broodingswan. I talk and swoon about these idiots all damn day long. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with J.K. Rowling. I'm not making any money from this, it's all for fun.

Draco can’t remember ever being so bored at a _sex show_. He’s happy to spend some gold on a good line up any day, but he has yet to even twitch in his pants and, as he checks his watch, sees that there’s only time for one more act. He scoffs quietly in distain, lifting his orange juice to his mouth and wiping off the excess it leaves, lightly sucking on his thumb. He prefers to be sober during these shows, a rare stance for him. But not when it’s this lacklustre. He’s surrounded by muggles of course, no wizard wants an ex-death eater at their shows, and Draco is _more_ than happy to avoid his kind. It’s been just over three years since the war ended, so he’s able to tolerate muggles a lot better. It doesn’t stop him from getting uncomfortable as soon as his mind isn’t occupied by latex and cock.

He figures he should probably take some time off from these. He yawns widely as the man on stage spins on the pole, thinking that perhaps he’s just addicted, maybe this is a _ravishing_ show and he’s just maxed out of dopamine for the month.  The idea isn’t exactly disproven as the crowd roars to life, cheering the man off the stage. Draco smirks down at his hand, shaking his head and reaching behind for his blazer, thinking he might as well go home and do the job himself. That is, until he looks back up.

His jaw hangs forgotten in the air as he sees who the final performer is. The entire crowd goes more still and silent than they’ve been all evening, many of them straightening their backs almost involuntarily. There’s absolutely no missing it – lithe body, dark skin, lightning scar, fuck-me eyes, just-fucked hair... it’s Potter. And he’s wearing, as Draco notices to his utter disbelief and delight, a _cat_ costume. He looks like he’s worth a million galleons. At first, he just stands there, unblinking, leaning on one defined hip and letting everyone take him in. The first detail Draco notices is that he had the audacity to charm a fully functioning long black cat tail onto himself, though he suspects the muggles will think it’s simply an expensive kink prop. His eyes rake over Potter hungrily, drinking in the leather fingerless gloves, the cat ears adorned with diamonds, the black spiked collar, the tiny black thong held up by sparse fishnets, complete with the tallest pair of velvet black heels Draco’s ever seen.

He’d probably be wondering how Potter’s going to move around in those, had he not been flushed and throbbing madly already. He has to stifle a groan of discomfort, his hand twitching in protest of his repeated reminder to himself that there’s no masturbation allowed during the show. The air around him suddenly feels very thick, hotter. His cheeks are on fire with it, and he’s relieved Potter can’t see him through those insanely bright lights. He’s dizzy with desire, and he curses silently to himself as he realizes he’s never been so hot _or_ bothered at a show before. He clenches his fist and teeth as Potter begins to walk forward on the mahogany floor, slowly, purposefully, footsteps echoing around the room like scattered thunder.

The music begins to fade in. It’s a deep, pulsating beat that Draco can feel through his entire body. He gasps as he feels a little bit of precum drip down his leg, the head of his swollen cock begging to be played with. He bites his lip as Potter grabs hold of the pole and slides smoothly down into a squat, eyes glinting defiantly in the spotlight as a pink tongue emerges, gliding across his front teeth. Draco almost loses himself at the sound alone. _He must have a mic hidden somewhere_ , he thinks numbly, trying to distract himself from the spectacle unfolding in front of him. Potter’s inner thigh muscles twitch as he lifts himself back up, flipping his mane of midnight black hair back as he does so. Draco positively _cannot_ hold back a low whistle, satisfied when he sees Potter smile, eyes flicking upward seductively as he continues twisting his hips, moving his body to the music. His tail lashes as he pants, getting hard from the attention. 

He leans back, his arm twisting around the pole as his other hand moves from the centre of his chest down, down to his rippling stomach, following the trail of hair from below his belly button, impossibly long eyelashes flickering as it makes contact with the head of his now erect cock. He purrs softly, convincingly enough that it almost sends Draco over the edge. Down go Potter’s fishnets, his pink cock peeking out as he folds his thong over it, only enough to see the very tip. It must be agony being trapped in that tiny piece of fabric. Sweet agony that’s written all over his face as he tenderly strokes it, so maddeningly slowly he draws a shuddering breath before throwing his head back, exposing his throat and bobbing adam’s apple. Draco’s on the edge of his seat, so wanting to mirror Potter’s movements as slowly but surely he begins to tease and tug on his flushed cock. It reminds him of all the times he spilled all over himself in his dorm at Hogwarts picturing him. He smiles up at potter with something akin to pride. He always _knew_ Potter had it in him. He regains composure just enough to notice that every single muggle in the room is twitching and shifting around in their seats. It’s not just him – from the way they’re all goggling at Potter it’s obvious there’s not one person who isn’t longing to touch themselves.

Potter lets out a sharp moan as he finally loses patience with himself, bouncing slightly with the music as he sinks as far down as you can go in a squat, leaning against the pole for balance as he rips the thong down, exposing his leaking cock. He starts to stroke it, tail lashing faster and faster. He does it so tenderly that Draco finds himself holding his breath as Potter gets closer, slowing down and speeding up every few seconds. His cock bobs up and down as he strokes it. He moans huskily as he does, so softly yet Draco can feel the vibrations of it ringing up and down his own aching cock. He feels his heartbeat pounding in his ears as a spasm travels through Potter’s body – he loses control, legs buckling, letting a drawn out moan of need project towards the ceiling as he’s lost in his climax, he leans all the way backwards so that Draco can barely see his head, he’s all heels and shaking legs and blurry hand movements, his cry of relief piercing Draco right in the heart as twists his wrist and sends cum splattering upwards and then back down. Draco swallows thickly as he sees some of it on the floor, some of it glistening on potter’s stomach, it’s all over his black gloves, some of it’s on the pole somehow... it’s dazzling, endless. When it finally passes Potter slowly sits back up. His hair is messier than ever, he’s panting, lips parted and eyes bright, smiling as though he’s just gotten away with murder. He stands back up effortlessly and beams at the crowd, taking a moment to bask in the stunned rapture of the audience before waving as he retreats to the backstage area.

Draco’s never heard applause so loud. He doesn’t partake, isn’t able to, as he’s sure there’s no blood left in any of his limbs. He wonders if he’ll even be able to stand up without having an orgasm first. He does manage somehow, wincing as he makes his way to the door, waddling slightly. He’s _never_ been this hard. Never had this much fun at a show, either. He’s _furious._

Without thinking too much he walks around to the back of the venue, parting from the chattering crowd instead of going home and stroking himself silly like he so badly wants, _needs_ to. Some kind of animal instinct has taken over. He needs to see Potter, needs him to look at _him_ like he did the audience. He finds what he thinks is the perfect door for performers to make a quick escape out of after shows, and he waits. Waits so long he begins to regret it. Performers trickle out, and Draco leans against the wall in shadow as they pass. Half an hour later his cock is still no less rock solid than it was, but Draco still resists the urge to touch it. Just as his resilience starts to falter, just as he’s considering going home, out comes Potter, alone and fully clothed, no tail in sight.

His expression shifts from sleepy contentment to a mixture of shock and rage upon seeing Draco, who smirks in response. He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a torrent of venom from potter.

“Malfoy! What are you – why are you here?!” Harry spits furiously, eyes narrowing. “You, at a muggle show... listen, if you go to the Prophet with this I’ll... I-“

“Save it, potter. I’m not going to the prophet. I’m not even surprised you’re whoring yourself out like this, you always _did_ love attention. I just came here to say that I’d give you all the gold in my vault for a private show,” Draco says matter-of-factly. Potter furrows his brows in shock, eyes widening back to their usual size. His gaze softens slightly. He gives Draco a once over as though resetting their encounter in his mind.

“Er... right then,” he mutters, glancing at his toes. “You’re serious?” A shadow of a smile crosses his lips.

“No, Potter, I just said that so you could embarrass me... god you’re dense.” He pauses, feeling too lightheaded from his raging erection to be properly sarcastic. “You really were something back there, you know. You were _brilliant_.”

Potter squints at him. “You were the one who whistled, you bastard.” It’s not a question. His cheeks pink slightly.

“So you’re not completely brainless. Well, I suppose that’s something.”

The look Potter gives him makes him wilt. It’s almost enough to scare his neglected cock into hiding. “If you really want a private show, you’re not really going about it the right way.”

Draco shakes his head. “I’m telling you Potter, you have a _gift_. You worked that crowd like nothing I’ve ever seen.” He takes a step towards Potter, marvelling at the way his hair so perfectly frames his face. “What do I have to do for you to come home with me? I’ll do anything.” It’s not a lie. Draco feels sure he really _could’ve_ killed Dumbledore if it meant he could have this.

Potter looks as if he’s about to move closer, he looks as if he’s about to say the impossible - yes. He takes a step back instead, glaring resentfully at Draco through his fringe. “You’re only saying that because I got your dick hard,” he grumbles obstinately.

“Oh,” Draco says, blinking innocently, “tonight wasn’t the first time.”

_That_ does the trick. Potter stares at Draco in distrustful amusement. “Are you...” He gulps. “Do you _seriously_ want a private show?” His eyes bore into Draco’s, green eyes search grey. Green eyes that always _could_ see through all of Draco’s tactics. All he can do is nod as Potter’s eyes slide down to the bulge in his pants, sucking in his breath sharply as his cock twitches visibly through them. Potter says nothing, just stares.

“Well?” snaps Draco, suddenly defensive. “Are you going to humour me or not? Only if you’ve got any left in you, of course.”

The smirk Potter gives him sends a thrill running up his spine. It’s absolutely _devilish._

***

Draco can’t believe his luck or his _life_ as he opens the door to his flat, pushing Potter through it a tad harder than necessary with a flat hand. Potter turns to admire the place but Draco leaves no time for it. He can’t bear the lust any longer and he takes Potter by the arm. He’s dimly aware of Potter chuckling darkly as he lets himself be dragged down the hallway to Draco’s room, his bag clanking behind him.

The bedroom is always dimly lit, its mauve hues made even more seductive by the candlelight dancing in the corners. Draco’s four-poster bed has never looked so inviting, with too many pillows to count and lush bedding so soft it’ll make you moan, no sex required. Draco spins around as they enter and looks Potter right in the eyes. He’s momentarily stunned by how piercing they are up close, and warmth floods his chest as he notices the absence of hatred in those emerald irises. All caution thrown into the wind, he leans in and kisses Potter’s rosebud lips, slowly, maddening wetness forcing him to steal another before tearing himself away and half-climbing on the bed to begin tossing the pillows aside. _Not_ an easy feat.

“Potter,” he hisses, feeling his balls turning blue by the second, “if you’re not in that stupid cat gear by the time I turn around we’re going to have a problem.”

He hears an indignant snort and Harry’s voice growls reproachfully at him from behind. “What d’you reckon I’m doing? Just _standing_ here?” Sure enough, the unmistakeable sound of fabric against skin can be heard.

Draco doesn’t bother answering, just finishes clearing off the bed and starts to turn back to him, only to be instantly pinned down and wrestled against his headboard by a panting Potter, a wild light appearing in his eyes as he does. “Potter! What are you...?” he doesn’t have time to argue or struggle much. He _is_ taller and bigger than Potter overall, but he’s easily overpowered by him and his arms are tied behind his back before he knows it. Potter climbs backwards so that he’s on his knees at the foot end of the bed. Draco’s mouth hangs open in disbelief again as he takes him in, in all his feline glory. He’s even more mouth-watering this close up.

He seems to realize how taken Draco is with him in this form, and he flashes his bright grin before licking his hand and playfully swatting at his ear. He shifts sensually side to side as he does, his slender form complete with pointy little ears and graceful tail making a striking silhouette in the dim light. He gives his tail one long stroke, letting it slip through his fingers, from the base all the way to the tip. Draco shakes his head, eyes soft with awe. He takes Potter in, _really_ takes him in, wild as the jungle, jewellery sparkling in the soft light. He’s breathing heavy, his pupils are dilated. To Draco, he’s never looked so much like a hero.

“You are _magnificent_ ,” he breathes, and Potter drops the facade for a second, suddenly looking very touched. For one heart-stopping moment, Draco’s actually afraid that he might cry. All they can do is look at each other, Draco trying to communicate through the adoration in his stare that Potter’s everything he’s ever wanted. But it only lasts a moment, and it’s not long before Potter’s crawling towards him, an almost murderous glint in his eyes that makes Draco whimper with lust. He waves his wand as he does, and Draco can feel his clothes being swept off his body. He watches as they float to the end of his bed, folding themselves neatly.

He stops with his head directly over Draco’s waiting cock, staring hungrily down at it, licking his lips with that perfectly pink tongue. Draco hardly dares to breathe as he lowers his head and gives the slit a gentle lick, a tiny bit of precum dangling from his tongue as he lifts it back to his mouth. Draco realizes that his mouth is hanging open again as Potter spreads it to the corners of his mouth with his tongue, and he makes a sound deep in his throat he’s quite sure he’s never made before. Potter leans forward again and lets precum and spit fall from his flushed lips, and Draco can feel the warm wetness coat him and slowly drip down his shaft. Potter sucks on him, just the very tip, once, just with his lips. There’s a popping sound as his lips close that makes Draco want to scream.

“You’re amazing,” Draco moans softly. He astounded by the warmth of Potter’s mouth as he finally takes him a bit deeper, sucking his cheeks in and hugging Draco’s cock nice and tight with that sassy little mouth. His cherry red lips make a perfect circle around him, and with holly green eyes glaring at him in mischief, it’s better than Christmas. He jerks his head up and down, deeper and deeper until, without warning, he ducks and takes Draco all the way down into the depths of his devastatingly soft, hot throat. Draco cries out in bliss as he feels an orgasm building, Potter swallows and he’s there, right on top of it, panting with want – only to be denied.

Draco’s eyes are rolled back in his head and his rhythmic groans of ecstasy don’t stop when Potter pulls away because he’s just _that_ excited. He’s never lost control like this, never been so close only to have it torn away at the last second. He mouths wordlessly at Potter to get on with it, unable to speak properly.  

Potter climbs fluidly on top of him. He’s panting with frustration as Potter gently runs his hands up and down his sides. His hands are so warm against Draco’s skin, and his eyes narrow with longing as a hot twinge nestles itself deep in his gut. It refuses to let go, only growing more white-hot as Potter begins to rock against him, only slightly making contact with Draco’s burning cock, who bites his lip in pained bliss as Potter leans forward and purrs right in his ear.

“I can’t believe you,” Draco croaks, seeming to have lost his voice. “Is this your revenge? Payback?”

His breath hitches as Potter bites his ear, hard. He hears Potter murmur “patience, Malfoy. I’m not finished with you yet,” and before he has a chance to answer properly he lets out a strangled cry into Potter’s neck as he takes his sorely neglected cock in his hand and lightly circles his thumb over the flushed head, tugging at it with shallow strokes. Draco wishes he could touch Potter’s chest, pull on his hair, but Potter tied that rope tightly. He’s going too slowly, Draco’s twitching with withheld need by now and every time he tries to buck against Potter’s hand he feels nothing as he pulls it away.

“Come on, Potter,” he moans, a pleading note entering his voice, “I haven’t got all bloody night.”

“Shh!” Potter commands, lightly whipping his tail across Draco’s mouth. He withdraws his hand completely, earning him another moan of longing from Draco as he picks up his wand again and waves his thong and tights off. His own cock is erect and plump all over again. Draco watches in barely contained ecstasy as Potter reaches behind him with his wand and mutters a spell of preparation, gasping as it stretches, cleanses, and lubricates him. Withdrawing his wand, he tosses it by the pile of Draco’s clothing. 

He moves even closer to Draco now, whose heart is thumping through his chest, every single beat felt as a burning throb in his cock. The entire area feels so full, balls so heavy, Draco’s sure he could burst without any contact at all. But there’s no need for that. Potter is slowly lowering himself onto Draco’s waiting cock. He’s impossibly, _stupidly_ tight, so tight Draco wonders if he’s ever done this before. Potter lets himself slide down balls deep, tensing those perfectly toned thighs and bobbing up, then down, up, then down again, cat ears sparkling as he moves.

It’s heaven, better than flying, better than _winning,_ even. Every cell in Draco’s body has been screaming for this for years, and the distant part of his brain that still works is thinking that he’ll never be able to have a good wank again without thinking of Potter. Forget the wow factor, the accessories, the persona, all Draco can see are those emerald eyes, mad with desire, that mouth opening wide, a line developing on his forehead as he reaches down and begins playing with himself again, all the while fucking Draco’s cock like it’ll save the world.

With his free hand he grabs Draco’s shoulder, a bit too tightly. He clearly needs something to hold onto, he’s losing control too.

“P-Potter,” Draco huffs, dazzled by the stars forming in his vision as he feels potter’s tight, wet little hole throb repeatedly. “Y-e-es, oh that’s it, just like that – ah!” His breaths, though still silent, are broken up and scattered, and he realizes that his whole body is shaking with the need to cum. He’s pretty sure he’s never had to hold it in this long. But Potter’s doing his little edging trick again, slowing down whenever Draco’s sure he’s about to finally lose control and speeding back up again just as he’s lost the urgency.

“Potter, please,” he bawls, eyes rolling back into his head as his cock twitches and spasms inside him.    “ ** _Harry-“_**

It’s what Potter was apparently waiting for. Draco watches through slitted eyes as Potter’s grunts get louder and more ragged, turning into short yelps of ecstatic agony as he fucks Draco harder and faster than ever. His legs start to shake again and his grip on Draco’s shoulder tightens as he leans back and explodes all over him, mouth hanging open in bliss as he unloads for the second time that night. Draco feels every single throb of his orgasm squeezing his cock, and he almost chokes on his whispered “oh _fuck_ ,“ as he soars to climax, a wave of hot, wet pleasure building so intensely that for a second he’s sure he’ll pass out from it. He hears his scream of long-awaited satisfaction echo around the room as the orgasm rips its way through his body, wave after wave of release pulsating through him, so strong his spine bends backwards of its own accord. It goes on and on, whenever he thinks it’s over he explodes all over again, shaking himself stupid with the force of it.

He finishes with a relish, chest heaving as he stares at Potter with heavy eyelids. Potter’s looking much more dishevelled than usual, which is saying a lot. His hair’s twice the size it usually is, sticking out at all different angles in clumps. Potter winces slightly as he lifts himself off, and Draco notices some of his cum leaking out before Potter unties his hands. Draco’s arms spring apart to take him into a warm and tender embrace. He rocks him back and forth, murmuring “you’re sadistic, you know that?” Harry lets out a hoarse giggle, throwing his arms around Draco’s neck and holding on tight.

Draco sees his room spinning around him, he’s drunk with contentment. This is _exactly_ how he wanted this night to end, wrapped up with Potter. He watches in amusement as Potter’s tail waves happily back and forth. “When do you usually take that thing off?” he asks sleepily, stifling a yawn. Harry leans back to look at him, grinning. “Whenever you want,” he says, shrugging. “I can leave it on all night if you’d like.” Draco lets out a scoff of faux-annoyance. “What, you think you’re staying _here_? For _free_? You’re out of your tree, Potter.”

Potter narrows his eyes playfully. “What happened to you giving me all your gold?”

Draco can’t find the words anymore, all he can do is laugh and smile tiredly up at Potter as he rubs his eyes, enjoying his new privilege of being able to touch him as he likes. Potter’s hair is even softer than it looks, and his body is just as lovely. He’s hot to the touch, almost overwhelmingly so as he leans back into Draco. He fits in his arms snugly, and as they press their lips together in the dead of night, all worries of who they are or what this means far from their minds, the only thing on Draco’s mind is the fact that, though Harry had performed to a room full of people tonight, only _he_ got the full experience. And _that’s_ enough to take centre stage in Draco’s mind, forever.

 

 


End file.
